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Before J'Dar and friends ran to the stables he said, "all costs will be on J'Dar!" he smiled and ran off with them.

Elyntine began to play her lyre as she walked towards the stables after J'dar.

The sound of a few well placed musical cords calmed Sebastien, and he followed J'Dar in silence, comforted to have the Khajiit ahead and the Dunmer by his side. If Singer the Nord was right, he would have to learn to feel comfortable with a wide variety of people, and he was not entirely certain how easy that would be.

Old man, indeed, he thought bitterly, and touched the graying hair at his temples mindlessly before gripping the hilt of the sword at his hip.

"Uh, Singer, before we get going, what is my... godly power?" He asked, not wanting to be skipped. H realized it was probably a little too late to ask, but he did anyways. He looked up at the tree.

Selara listened to the exchange between the two men, biding her time for a moment. Reluctant though she was to accept aid from one such as the Imperial that had rescued them, she felt they really had little choice for the nonce. "Malatar," Selara said quietly, switching to the language of the Ayleidoon. "If we do not go with him, we may never know for certain whom, exactly, is to blame for the destruction of our people. Gods above, I don't like this either, but he did get us out of that place. If he wanted naught but our destruction, it would seem he could have left us there. I've little doubt that this Nede seeks to use us for his own advantage, but if we go with him, there may well be ways to twist his purpose to suit our own. I do not intend to die like a rabbit running blindly from the hawk she cannot see. Far better to be the hawk, and strike when our time is right, is it not?"

Malatar reluctantly sighed. "Very well." he said. "I shall cautiously follow you."

"The Thalmor should only be destroyed when they have outlived their usefulness, Bosmer. Tamriel goes through continuing cycles of breaking apart and coming together. Hopefully there'll be more provinces next time."

Irri looked at Siaenach strangely. "Valenwood and the Reach's plights are no different, the Altmer are no less oppressive than Stormcloak." She said.

"You can at least travel in your ow land without risking being shouted apart by a madman," Siaenach grumbled bitterly. "The man's impossible to beat down without help from someone absurdly powerful."

"Mh. You are not wrong. Perhaps that bigot needs to be dealt with after the Marukhati." Irri said, tapping her fingers on the haft of her axe.

"Or at least just thrown out of the Reach."

"And what of the Elves all across Skyrim that live under his yoke?" Irri asked. She snorted. "Put me in the same room as him, I could kill him and sleep soundly the next night. The man is a monster."

"That's why all elves need to abandon Skyrim asap. It's too unsafe. I alerted some of those I know by letter. They know how to get to safety in our redoubts."

Selara nodded. It was enough, for now. It would have to be enough for now. But they would survive today, it seemed, and hopefully learn something that may prove useful in the long run. Selara was always one to plan for the long run. To do otherwise would be foolish indeed. "Very well, Imperial," she murmured in the common tongue. "Lead us wherever you would have us go, but know that we do not intend to be taken unaware again."

What a vastly different world they had woken up to! Selara wasn't at all certain that she liked it.

Irri looked at Siaenach respectfully. "You are a brave one." She said. "An an honourable one. Too many would term your people barbaric... Too many."

"Selara...We are the last." Malatar whispered to Selara in Ayleidoon. "The last of our kind. Our race has been removed from this world."

For a moment, the long look that Selara gave Malatar was full of palpable anguish, a reflection of the deep, unfathomable pain that seared her very soul. "I know," she breathed, slipping once more into her native tongue. The thought hurt. Oh, how it hurt!

But then she blinked the sorrow away, locking it away inside her soul to grieve over at a better time. Her expression sharpened once more into ice-cold resolve as she spoke. The words were quiet, but a hint of steel gleamed behind their silken softness. "I won't die here, Malatar. Not like this. I won't be a mouse scurrying through the darkness, waiting only to be killed. We are not removed from Nirn, Malatar, not yet. As long as we yet breathe, our people live on. We owe them so much. I will not let the Ayleid people be forgotten."

The blind man nodded in approval. "Good." He said and started walking. "The name's Alec, by the way. I'm rather offended you haven't asked. Thousands of years in hibernation should not affect your manners, young ones." He stroked his white beard and chuckled at his joke. "We have a long way to go," He continued. "Singer's waiting for us."

Meanwhile...


Singer called for Ormis to be claimed by his godly parent. "Hail, Ormis, son of Clavicus Vile." Singer announced. "It seems that thanks to your Daedric parent, you will be well liked by anyone you meet. No one can hate you and many will consider you a friend even though they barely know you."

As Singer finished the Claiming rituals, the small group walked to the stables where they found twelve horses waiting for them. "Pick a horse," Singer said, "And follow me. We're going to the camp!"

"I have the ability to get us there faster." Malatar stated. He got on all fours. With a few mere steps, he had fully transformed into a large, powerful golden lion. "Get on."

Alec seemed uneasy. "I can see you're part cat as well. Well, I can't technically see it, but I can sense it. I'd prefer if we rode horses back to camp."

Tireace checks the horses and goes on the most gentle looking horse she could find. "where abouts are we going to in cyrodiil?"

Irri jumped onto a lean, dark grey horse. "I don't know."